Holmes for the Holidays
by Augusta
Summary: Just a little Christmas fic with the usual suspects. Pointless & Plotless
1. Chapter 1

**December 22**

Three days before Christmas brought out the last-minute shoppers in droves. It also brought with it dark, angry storm clouds that immediately began dumping snow on New London. A man and a droid, both in anachronistic clothing, muscled their way out of the crowded mall at the precipitation's onset.

"Come now Watson." The man said as he pulled his deerstalker snug over his ears. "I'll hold the gifts while you fetch the HoverCoach."

"Excellent idea Holmes. No use in the two of us getting lost in this infernal snow." The droid agreed as he handed over the packages.

Sherlock Holmes smirked from behind the gaily-wrapped presents. "As I too, thought."

When everything was packed away and both were securely in their seats, Watson slowly steered them through the now blinding snow.

"The Irregulars should be at the flat by now." Commented Holmes as he flipped the radio to a local station.

"If that is the case," Watson said as he nudged the HoverCoach down Baker Street, "then I suppose I'll take them home when this snow lets up."

Holmes listened intently to the radio for a few seconds. "I doubt that will be for a while Watson. They say this might be the largest blizzard New London has had in over 50 years."

When they made it into 221b Baker Street they found the Irregulars' winter-wear drying by the fire. Not far away, Tennyson worked on clearing the snow out of his hoverchair and Deirde played with Tigerlily, who'd become a permanent fixture at 221b since the Mazarin Chip incident. Wiggins headed out of the kitchen with a tray of steaming mugs.

"Evening, Governors." Wiggins said as he held out a mug for Holmes. "Hope you don't mind us staying here till the storm blows over. We raided your hot chocolate supply, too."

Holmes sipped appreciatively at the cocoa. "Not a problem. You're more than welcome to weather out the storm here."

Heavy boots clomping up the seventeen steps outside prompted Holmes to open the door and hand his mug to a startled Inspector Beth Lestrade.

"My dear Lestrade, do come in and dry off."

She shook the melting snow from her hair. "Later. I'm just stopping for a second before heading back out."

"I do hope you're not expecting to go anywhere in this blizzard." Watson stated.

"As if. I have groceries and an extra pair of clothes out in my car." Lestrade answered as she picked at her dampened clothes.

Holmes grabbed his inverness and deerstalker and headed for the door. "Come Lestrade. Better to do it now instead of later."

Lestrade sighed as she pulled a knit cap out of her coat pocket and jammed it on her head. "Lead on, Holmes."

**SHERLOCKHOLMESINTHE22NDCENTURY**

Once everyone was inside and in dry clothes, Watson busied himself in the kitchen while the non-mechanical life forms warmed themselves by the fire.

"I never thought you'd be one to lounge around in designer clothes, Inspector." Deidre thought aloud as she wiggled her toes in front of the flickering flames.

Beth idly swirled what was left of her hot chocolate. "That's because I usually don't. Give me sweatshirts and comfy jeans any day of the week. But, I had to be in court this morning, hence the poly-silk suit."

Tennyson gave a series of beeps and whirs, which was easily understood by Wiggins. "That's right, the Michaelson case. He get sentenced to the Cryptonizer?"

She shook her head. "It took the jury five minutes to convict him and the judge even less to hand out the death penalty."

"Perhaps it's a bit cold of me," Holmes said, stretching his long legs towards the fire. "But I believe he deserved no less for what he did."

The conversation petered off into a comfortable lull until Watson called them for dinner.

Later, after everyone spent a sufficient amount of time complaining about the weather after dinner, Deidre and Lestrade agreed to share the guestroom. Holmes retired to his room, Wiggins and Tennyson bunked by the fire, and Watson took up his usual regeneration post in the kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

**December 23**

The next morning, Beth Lestrade found she could barely move. Some time during the night the electricity had gone down and Deidre had wrapped herself around the woman and Tigerlily had buried his furry body under one arm, both trying to soak as much warmth from her as possible.

After successfully disentangling herself, Lestrade wrapped her arms around her chest and shuffled over to Holmes' room. She knocked a few times and he answered clutching his robe to his body, a spare one held out to her.

"It appears we lost power last night." He said through chattering teeth.

"No shit, Sherlock." She wrapped the thick robe around her borrowed pajamas. She inhaled and could tell the robe, like the pajamas, was Holmes' by the way his scent still lingered faintly in the fabric.

"I beg your pardon?" Sherlock said, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry. You do have a generator, right?"

"There's one out in the back garden, if someone would want to brave the storm to turn it on."

Deidre sleepily shuffled out of the bedroom rubbing her eyes. "I can do that. The building'll give me some cover from the wind."

"You'll catch your death of cold." Holmes proclaimed.

"Naw. I'm quicker 'n both of you. Jack Frost couldn't catch me."

"But…"

"Come on, Inspector. I'll be back in afore you can say popsicle."

Both adults gave resigned sighs, knowing they couldn't change the young girl's mind. With a whoop, she bounced back into the room to dress for her adventure.

Not much later Lestrade and Watson stood by the back door, waiting for Deidre to rush back in from the biting cold, which she did with great alacrity.

"Look what I found Watson." Deidre said as she unwrapped her arms from around her middle.

**THWACK!**

A snowball hit Lestrade in the midriff. "A snowball for the Inspector."

"Why you…"

The girl held up a little bundle of fur in penance. "And a kitten."

Watson took the small marmalade cat in one large metal hand and scanned it with the other as Lestrade grumpily brushed snow from her chest.

Deidre hung on to Watson's arm as he gently tried to rub some life back into the feline. "Is he gonna be alright?"

"_She_ will be fine. And she is not a kitten, but a mature adult cat approximately the same age as Tigerlily and apparently pregnant. There's no collar or tag so one can only assume the little thing is a stray."

Lestrade held out a hand to the compudroid. "I think your hands are bit cold for the cat Watson. How about you fix a dish of milk while Deidre gets herself dried off. Our little friend just needs some warm food and night by the fire and she'll be all right."

"How do you know so much about cats, Inspector?" Deidre asked.

Beth tucked the cat close to her chest as she settled down on the couch in the sitting room. "I used to get in trouble for bringing home strays when I was a kid."

Holmes looked up from his book. "I never thought you'd be a child to bring home lost animals."

Wiggins joked from over his homework. "I never thought you were a child."

"What, you think I popped out fully grown with an ionizer in one hand and a badge in the other?"

"_Well, there are days._" Tennyson beeped.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. I was like any other tomboy. My mother said I had so many animals I could've started my own zoo." Lestrade said as she gently stroked the cat into a wary wakefulness.

Holmes studied Beth's face as the cat gave her finger an inquisitive lick. "And you grieved every time one of them died."

A faint blush colored her cheeks and Lestrade smiled wanly as the feline began to burrow against her, searching for warmth. "That's why I don't keep animals anymore."

Sensing the mushiness of the moment, Lestrade cleared her throat. "Well, I suppose she needs a name."

Holmes raised a brow. "Are you intent on keeping her my dear?"

"Actually, I thought you would. My apartment doesn't allow animals. She could keep Tigerlily company."

Sherlock thought for a second and gave a small shrug.

"I've always been partial to Juliet." Lestrade said and the cat looked cross-eyed at her before hopping off of the woman's lap.

How about Dandelion, to go with Tigerlily?" Wiggins offered.

The cat wandered over to the dish of milk Watson set out and turned her backside towards the boy.

"She looks like a Francesca to me." Holmes said turning back to his book.

The cat continued to lap up the milk as Deidre settled in across from her, propping her chin on her folded arms. "What'cha think about that Frankie?"

The cat considered her for a few seconds before licking the girl's nose.

"Francesca it is then." Watson said as he made his way back to the guest bathroom. "I suppose that means I'll be cleaning the litter box more often."

**SHERLOCKHOLMESINTHE22NDCENTURY **

Later that day, Lestrade sprawled out on the chaise lounge gently stroking Francesca's ears as she read a book and listened to music. The children found the cat a bit comical looking with her thin frame and bulging abdomen. But Lestrade found her adorable and vowed that she would look better once they put a little meat on her bones and she had her litter.

Holmes slouched in his armchair, chewing on the stem of his empty pipe as he stared contentedly into the fire over his steepled fingers. Watson and Deidre puttered around the kitchen while Tennyson played Halo 20 Online on his MiniX. From the excited chirps and whistles one would guess he was kicking his opponents' butts.

Wiggins was off raiding the cupboards even though they'd had dinner not but three hours ago. Oh, to have the metabolism of a 15-year-old boy.

When Wiggins returned to the sitting room with Tigerlily on his heels he noticed the Inspector's foot dancing to whatever was on her Iota. He plucked her earbuds out and listened for second to whatever was playing on the miniscule music chip player.

He made a face. "What are you listening to?"

Lestrade retrieved her precious earbuds. "Right Said Fred. Late 20th century rock band."

"Catchy tune." He began singing under his breath as he stuffed food in his mouth. "I'm too sexy…I'm too sexy for my shirt…too sexy for my cat…think about that?"

While Wiggins proclaimed his sexiness for all, Tennyson threw his arms up in victory, sending his MiniX flying. Holmes caught it almost without thinking and peered at the score.

"Impressive Tennyson."

The blonde beeped excitedly and his blue eyes crinkled at the praise. While Tennyson took a victory lap around the flat, Holmes fiddled with the buttons for a few seconds before finding the menu and pulling the stylus out of the miniature gaming system. He was so intent on what he was doing he didn't notice when Deidre came up behind him to study the MiniX over his shoulder.

"I didn't know you were an artist Mr. Holmes."

Holmes started slightly. "I'm not."

She cocked her head and studied the picture of Lestrade reclining on the couch with Francesca. "I don't know. It's not bad."

She tapped her yellow forefinger on the screen. "I like how you took some artistic license with it."

"I only draw what I see. It's no different than sketching out a crime scene or a suspect's face."

Deidre shook her head. "Whatever you say Mr. Holmes. I wish I could draw like that."

"Me too."

Both Deidre and Holmes turned to find Lestrade looking over their shoulders at the small screen.

Deidre looked at the couch where Francesca now snoozed by herself, then back at Beth. "Wait, weren't you just…I thought…"

A smile curled the woman's lip. "Walk softly and carry a big stick. Not bad Holmes," she cocked her head, "is that how I really look to you?"

He considered the visage he'd created. "How do you mean? This is a close approximation to your appearance."

"I'm not really that…voluptuous, am I? I look very…feminine in that picture."

"You made her look real pretty Mr. Holmes. Though, I don't think I've ever seen the Inspector look so girly."

Lestrade cuffed the girl's shoulder. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"

Holmes shook his head as Deidre ran and Lestrade took off after her.


	3. Chapter 3

**December 24**

It was the day of Christmas Eve and the Irregulars were already going crazy and getting antsy. While Lestrade and Holmes were willing enough to sit in front of the fire with a good book for hours on end, the kids were bored. Cabin fever had officially set in.

Wiggins and Deidre had already been banned from the bedroom when Watson had found them bouncing on the beds like five-year-olds. Tennyson had only gotten in some minor trouble for upgrading Holmes' computer.

Deidre and Wiggins now lay on the floor playing chess while Tennyson surfed the Internet.

"Hey Wiggins." Deidre said as she moved her queen. "Would you rather lick a pay phone or eat a bug?"

"Lick a pay phone, definitely. A bug's got all those legs that could get stuck in your throat."

"Speaking from experience are we?" Inquired Holmes.

Wiggins smiled slightly as he took one of Deidre's rooks.

"What are you talking about?" Lestrade asked as she flopped down on the couch.

"We just started playing _Would You Rather_." Deidre said.

Lestrade chuckled. "Zed, I haven't played that in years."

"My turn." Wiggins spoke up. "Tennyson, would you rather be interrogated by the Inspector or give yourself a wedgie?"

_The wedgie._

"Am I really that unbearable?"

Deidre raised a hand. "Can I plead the Fifth?"

Lestrade rolled her eyes.

Tennyson swung his hoverchair to face Beth. _Smell Wiggins socks or eat something you've cooked?_

"Oh, that's easy." Lestrade said. "Smell the socks."

Watson looked up from fixing a loose servo in his forearm. "Is your cooking that bad Inspector?"

"You have no idea. Okay Deidre, would you rather get a hand-me-down or…give Holmes a makeover?"

"Give Mr. Holmes the makeover."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the two females. "Is there something wrong with my appearance?"

"No comment. All right, Mr. Holmes. Give Chief Grayson a spongebath…or kiss the Inspector?

Holmes immediately stood up. "Has anyone seen Francesca at all today? Perhaps I'll go and find her. Wouldn't want her getting stuck somewhere."

Deidre and Tennyson immediately started giggling.

"Spoilsport!" Wiggins yelled up the stairs after the obviously embarrassed private detective.

Seconds later Holmes rushed to the railing at the second floor landing. "Lestrade, you're needed up here."

"Where's the fire Holmes?"

"There's no fire you daft woman. Francesca's having kittens and I…I have no idea what to do."

Lestrade took the stairs three at a time, mumbling something that sounded like 'men' under her breath.

"Someone find Tigerlily and make sure he doesn't come upstairs." Her voice floated back down the stairs at the kids.

After a mad scramble around the flat Deidre stuck her head in the door of the guestroom to find Beth and Sherlock flat on their stomachs staring intently under the bed.

"Just thought I should tell you we found him. Watson's got him down in the kitchen for now and boy is he mad. How's Frankie doing?"

"She just had her first kitten and I think she's done for now. Nothing's gonna happen for a while."

Sherlock turned to Lestrade. "Does it usually take long for a cat to give birth?"

"Anywhere from a few minutes to half an hour for each, it just depends. I don't think it'll take too long though. Deidre, get me some napkins or a couple of towels."

"Why?"

"That way I can clean up the kittens as they come, it tends to get messy."

"Oh zed, that's just gross." Deidre left the room like she was shot out of a cannon and returned quickly to slide a pile of fluffy towels across the floor to Lestrade.

"You know, you can come in." Lestrade said as she rolled her eyes.

"No way." And then she was gone again.

**SHERLOCKHOLMESINTHE22NDCENTURY **

That night Watson put the children to sleep in Holmes' bedroom and then went to check on the adults in the guestroom. Both were sleeping on the less than comfortable wood floor. Watson crouched down to look under the bed to find Francesca cleaning three softly mewling kittens.

Instead of waking up the two on the floor, Watson merely slipped pillows under their heads and draped a blanket over them. When he was sure everyone was well asleep he headed downstairs to keep company with a pissed off Tigerlily in the kitchen.


	4. Chapter 4

**December 25**

Holmes awoke slowly to find himself staring at the ceiling and covered with a warm coverlet, obviously Watson's doing. He went to stretch his stiff body and discovered Lestrade spooned against his side and snoring softly into his neck. It wasn't a bulldozer snore, but more of a soft hum that he found quite soothing and almost endearing.

He thought about letting her sleep but instead tickled her nose with a hank of her own hair. She sighed and then her eyes popped open, immediately taking stock of the fact that her arms were thrown around his chest and his were around her shoulders. Holmes smiled benignly; she was a cop till the end.

When Beth realized she wasn't in any immediate danger she slowly let go of him and scooted a bit under the bed to examine Francesca and her kittens. Sherlock followed suit and found the mother cat nursing her litter.

"The miracle of life. It's quite fascinating, isn't it Lestrade?"

"Yeah, it is pretty cool."

"Now what?"

"Now we keep an eye on her and make sure she's well fed and the kittens are kept warm."

"You do realize you'll have to visit at least once a day now."

"Why's that?"

"Well, I obviously have no idea how to care for newborn kittens and Francesca seems to have grown quite fond of you."

"Is that the only reason I should come over?"

Holmes blushed, looked away and changed the topic. "It amazes me how well versed you are about domestic animals, my dear Inspector."

Lestrade smiled ever so slightly. "It amazes me that you didn't answer that question last night. Usually you're one to never hold back what you really think."

"What question?"

"You know very well which one, Holmes. Deidre's _Would You Rather_ question."

"Ah, that question."

"And?" She leaned close.

"Hm…I still haven't decided." He stated, seemingly oblivious to her nearness.

She leaned in further, so she was right in his face. "Oh, come on Holmes, get off the fence and make a decision."

"But you see Lestrade, I have no prior experience with either scenario. But I suppose I could remedy that."

She raised a slim eyebrow. "What? You're going to give the Chief a spongebath?"

"No." Holmes leaned in and brushed her lips with his.

It was a chaste kiss, nothing more. She leaned back and studied him as he pressed his lips together, thinking.

"Well…"

"I still can't give you a definitive answer." His face loomed close to hers.

"Perhaps we should try again," he mumbled against her mouth.

The kiss was short; too short in Lestrade's opinion. She raised her eyebrows in askance.

He looked thoughtful. "No, I still don't think I can give you an answer based on the evidence…"

"Zed it!" She grabbed his head and met his lips squarely.

He groaned against her soft lips and she smiled at the sound.

Holmes pulled back. "Stop doing that."

"What?" She cocked her head.

"Stop smiling." He briefly touched his lips to hers. "It makes it quite difficult to kiss you."

Their interlude was interrupted as Deidre, Wiggins, and Tennyson rushed into the room.

Tennyson spun in circles as he chirped ecstatically. _It's Christmas, it's Christmas!_

"Can we open our presents now?" Deidre was almost ready to bounce down the stairs without an answer.

"Yes. Get out of here. Go. Vamoose."

The three pounded downstairs as soon as Beth dismissed them. Deidre returned a few seconds later to toss something at the adults.

"Oh, yeah. I thought you might be able to get some use out of this. Merry Christmas."

Lestrade looked at the sprig of mistletoe that landed near her head. "Does she ever give up?"

Her eyes closed in realization and she pounded a fist on the floor. "Oh zed! I'm sorry Holmes. I never did get you a present."

"That's all right," Holmes said as he leaned over her and grabbed the mistletoe. "This is a lovely gift."

She giggled and grabbed his wrinkled lapels. "I completely agree."

Just as his lips met hers a flash went off from the door. A glimpse of red hair and laughing accompanied by running feet told them it was Deidre.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around Lestrade as she went to get up. "Leave her be. It's Christmas after all."

Beth let out a huff. "Fine."

He chuckled and kissed her thoroughly. "Merry Christmas, my dear Lestrade."

"Merry Christmas Sherlock. I never thought I'd be with Holmes for the holidays."

He groaned and kissed her into silence.


End file.
